


Let me feel your heartbeat

by Prawnperson



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions of love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Drunkenness, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre Relationship, Slight Mentions of Gore, Sweet Moments, mix of film and book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: The pirate with a scarf gets absolutely off his face drunk at a very bad time.
Relationships: Pirate Captain & Pirate With A Scarf, Pirate Captain/Pirate with a Scarf
Comments: 21
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

While the weight against his left hand side is not exactly the heaviest thing in the world, far from it in fact, the Pirate Captain has to admit there are countless more things he would rather be doing right now. 

The various streets of blood island are almost entirely empty, most of the pirates either retreated back to their boats or milling around one of the all night clubs, and while he’d love to go there, he’s been deemed the responsible member of the party for once. Given the fact that the rest of the crew left an hour earlier, he couldn’t even shirk off the duty onto one of them.

“You are so infuriating.”

It comes from nowhere, a drunken slur from the pirate with a scarf, tucked up against his side. His ocean blue eyes are glassy and not quite focused, but he looks furious. It’s rare he gets in a state like this, full of rum and grog and unusual confidence. On the rare occasion the Captain has been able to bare witness to such a spectacle, it’s generally resulted in the quartermaster taking a shine to some nice lady pirate and presumably spending the rest of the night with her, so this? This is entirely new to him.

“What?”

“You’re so annoyin’ all the time. It...ugh.” He stumbles a little on the pavement, seemingly alarmed, only to make a noise like a cutlass has been plunged into his stomach. The rapid switch from one thing to another makes the Captain wince. Part of him is expecting something bad to happen, although he doesn’t know what.

“Do you-hih-do you want to know the worst part?” 

The Captain stops in the middle of the street and yanks the pirate with a scarf upwards with a tug on the belt slung around his chest. “If you weren’t drunk, I’d be really annoyed with you, number two.”

The quartermaster seems to completely disregard the comment, making a vague gesture that doesn’t mean anything, pushing messy curls out of his eyes with the flat of his palm.

“You never listen’a me. Even if y’do it’s ‘cause I’m agreeing with you. It’s like I’m...I don’t matter.”

“What on earth are you on about?”

The pirate with a scarf makes another noise, although this time, it’s one of frustration, high and grating. The Captain can feel him squirm against his side, face scrunching into an expression of annoyance. “See! Never even listen’a me then! Even when I’m talking about it! Wh-what was I gonna say?”

The street lamps are bright enough for the pirate with a scarf to make out the Captain’s eye roll.

“You were going to tell me why I’m the worst in the world, or some such.”

“You’re the worst because I’m in love with you.”

The entire island seems to stop. The sound of the waves lapping against stone, the glow of the moon overhead, the soft blowing of the wind, it all becomes drastically muted as the Captain’s knees go hollow. The once comfortable weight pressing into his side now feels suffocating and heavy, like a sack of rock. His fingertips feel numb where they touch the pirate with a scarf, rough skin on soft cloth.

“I. Am. In. Love. With. You.”

Every word in the sentence is punctuated with a gentle tap to the Captain’s nose. The pirate with a scarf laughs afterwards, sounding more like he’s asleep than awake, tilting his head back and grinning stupidly. The Captain can’t be certain if he’s crying or not. “But you do not like me, do y-you? Well, you don’t act like it.”

The Captain is certain that the quartermaster is able to feel the thumping of his heart in his chest. He’s in love with him. He just said he was. Even thinking about it makes him feel far too warm, almost dizzy.

“You wink at me and you talk to me funny and you don’t even know what shanties are good. You’re an idiot! A st-stupid, handsome idiot.”

The shape of the boat looms over them as they approach the end of the pier. The Captain can still hear number two babbling on about the absence of glass in the portholes and the rickety mast and the blood ingrained into the ship’s figurehead, along with a boatload of other things, but all of it seems largely inconsequential, seems very small compared to what’s just been said. There doesn’t seem to be any hopes of stopping him in his rant as his general complaining mingles with soft, tender confessions of something that he would never dare to say sober. 

When they finally reach the gangplank of the boat, the pirate with a scarf stumbles up it, voice now quieter and more tired sounding, eyes red rimmed and pale skin flushed miserably as he sniffles. He almost trips himself up on one of the raised notches of wood, lurching forwards before the Pirate Captain steadies him with a firm pair of hands, one at his shoulder and the other at his hip. The pirate with a scarf smiles at that, twirling the tassels at the end of his scarf in an almost nervous manner.

“But that’s just it. Then you do nice things like that an’ it makes it, oh, a whole bunch worse.”

As if his trusted first mate insulting him and confessing his love all in one night wasn’t enough to kill the Captain, said first mate carrying out all of his most admirable mannerisms at once certainly was. They finally reach the pirate with a scarf’s cabin, and without any much fuss, he strips off the outer layer of his clothing, hiccups on some long suppressed confession of desire, and allows himself to be pressed into his hammock and rather hastily shoved underneath the covers.

“You care a lil’ bit.”

He smirks, before shutting his eyes and almost immediately falling into a deep, deep sleep. The Pirate Captain unwinds the scarf from the quartermaster’s neck, fingers moving with unusual slowness as he unties the notch, observing the slow rise and fall of his chest as he does so. The thought of how bad his hangover will be the next morning almost makes him want to laugh. He folds up the little red strip of fabric and presses it into the now pirate without a scarf’s marker box before turning on his heel and quietly shutting the cabin door behind him. He leans against the heavy doorframe and stares up at the dark sky, ever reluctant to sacrifice his dramatic flair, and begins to chew on the inside of his cheek.

This is not how he expected to spend his Friday night, no sir.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s late morning by the time the pirate with a scarf manages to blink his eyes open, head thumping like he’s being continually smashed into a wall. He groans lowly, sheltering his eyes from the sunlight that beams in from the small window in his cabin. It’s later than he’d usually be up. The slight change immediately makes him feel uneasy for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint. He decided to get dressed and find out what he’ll be expected to do today, and, with a disgruntled, almost nauseous noise, he hauls himself up. 

———

The Captain turns a corner and leaves as soon as the pirate with a scarf comes anywhere near him. He seems flighty. Not his usual ‘I’ve just done something daft and I don’t want you to find out’ flighty, but genuinely wary. The rest of the crew is unusually quiet, too, only occasional making a ruckus every time the pirate with a hook for a hand goes to be sick over the side of the boat. The calm would be quite nice if it weren’t so concerning.

The day wears on without anything too incredible happening. The crew spends most of the day sprawled out on deck, playing games of scrabble and another, separate game that involves trying to stop either Polly or the albino pirate from eating the scrabble tiles. No fights break out, for once, everyone far too baked in the sun to really get annoyed with anything. The captain doesn’t emerge from his quarters all morning. 

The pirate with a scarf strokes his fingers through Polly’s plush feathers. She coos in an almost sympathetic manner, nuzzling against his chest before jumping down from his arms and once again going to scratch at her master’s door. For the first time in the past three hours, the pirate with a scarf sees hands dart out to pull her in, only for the door to slam shut again.

Something is odd. Very odd indeed.

———

The pirate with a scarf has managed to piece together spotty memories of the night before by the time dinner rolls around. He picks at his lamb, because this seems to be one of the rare instances whenever the captain has decided to chose something other than ham, stifling a laugh as he remembers something stupid he said. 

Speaking of the captain, he still seems unusually quiet.

Whenever the pirate with a scarf looks up and turns his gaze to the captain’s chair, he finds that he’s already being looked back at with wide, concerned looking blue eyes. Immediately realising he’s been spotted, the captain ducks his head back down, pretending to be very interested in a piece of parsley at the side of his plate. The pirate with a scarf ‘hmphs’ around his fork. The rest of the crew continue chatting, oblivious. It’s only whenever the surprisingly curvaceous pirate says something very lowly that the captain shoves his chair away and hurries out of the door.

Pushing his plate away, the pirate with a scarf gets up to go after him, paying no mind to the giggling albino pirate.

———

“Sir! Sir...captain!”

A little breathless from having to run almost the whole length of the boat to keep up with the captain, the pirate with a scarf leans over slightly, taking in small gulps of air. The captain’s been cornered, and he seems to realise it, judging by the way he’s pacing the wooden boards like a cagey animal.

“What’s gotten into you? You’ve been avoiding us all day!”

His laugh quickly falters and dies down as the captain stares at him, serious and silent, a little bit frightening, if he’s honest, and the even smaller touch attractive. He ignores that last part, however. Presses it down with every other thought like that to never be focused on, not even on pain of death.

The boat creaks gently, almost atmospheric, cold night air blowing in off the calm, dark water. The captain makes a noise between a sigh and a gulp and darts his eyes to the side.

“Right, uh...hello.”

“Hello...captain, is there something the matter? Something on your mind?”

The captain shuffles a little awkwardly, sighing deeply, hands shoved into his pockets. The hull rocks. 

“Number two, last night, you got a little-“

“Plastered?”

“Right, yes...”

Below them, the hatch to the galley swings open, clearly an attempt to let some air into the small space. It also allows warm light to spill across the deck, giving the whole boat a shadowy glow. 

“You said some fairly odd things, number two.”

The pirate with a scarf chuckles and reaches around to rub the back of his neck. Despite his embarrassment, he’s fairly certain nothing could be that bad. Cringe-inducing, certainly, but never-

“You told me that you were in love with me.”

The pirate with a scarf feels his stomach flip, dark blue eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights. He opens his mouth to say something, swallowing thickly, overwhelmingly tempted to chew at the tip of his scarf.  
“As a joke, captain?”

“No, no, I don’t think so, judging by the crying and what have you.”

“Oh.”

It’s all he can think to say. The nausea from the hangover comes back in full force, and for one horrible moment, he wonders if he’ll actually be sick. His heart drops to his shoes, heavy and resigned. The captain clicks his tongue in an almost nonchalant manner, and for some reason, the pirate with a scarf feels like yelling.

“So...are you going to do something about it?”

“Wh-what?” The pirate with a scarf squeaks.

“Well, usually the people in books do something like a date after a confession, don’t they? Let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve ever done.”

“N-no, I just-“

The captain laughs, low and warm, a sound that makes the first mate feel giddy.  
“Stop stammering, number two, I’m asking.”

“You are?”

Some great loud crashing noise pours from the open hatch. Both pirate decide to ignore it in favour of keeping the conversation going, lest the moment be broken. “I’m not opposed to the idea of dating another man. I mean, I’m mostly straight, but...mostly.”

The pirate with a scarf wonders for a moment of he’s about to jolt awake, yet even as he gently pinches at his wrist, nothing happens.

“Mostly?”

“Yes, but that’s not important. How about we do something?”

“Something?”

The captain laughs again, taking his hands from his pockets to place them on the first mate’s shoulders. He shakes him gently, the pirate with a scarf biting his tongue just to double check his dream theory. “Stop asking so many questions! Listen, how about we go out this time next week, just us? Sound good to you?”

The pirate with a scarf nods dumbly. The pirate captain grins, slapping him firmly on the back before moving away from him.

“I can’t believe I was worried about this...” He mumbles, creaking down the staircase and in towards his quarters. “A week today at seven, alright?”

“I-Yes!”

With that, the door to the captain’s quarters bangs shut, and the pirate with a scarf is left alone on the chilly deck. He’s still for a moment, totally disbelieving of the events that just transpired, until everything hits him like a cannonball dead centre in the stomach. He brings his hands up to cup his face, breaking into a stupid grin as a shaky, overwhelmed laugh escapes him. His hands move from the sides of his face to over his mouth in an attempt to cover the embarrassing little peals of laughter he can’t help bursting into.

The pirate captain just asked him out on a date. A real, actual date. 

Leaning against the handrail, he bites his lip and allows himself to act rather silly for a moment or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for such lovely comments! I was so surprised that anyone actually read this, let alone enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

The date has been meticulously planned. Every last little detail has been noted down, even down to the colour of his underwear. Sitting on his hammock, the pirate with a scarf feels more like a hormonal teenager than a debonair swashbuckler, mouth dry and palms damp. The cry of ‘Land ho!’ comes through muffled from above decks as they approach the shores of blood island. He sits up and gives himself a final check in the broken rectangle of a mirror that hangs on right wall of his cabin. Minus the belt across the chest, It’s the same coat and trousers as usual, specially washed and ironed for the occasion-with no small deal of difficulty at sea-accompanied by a blousy shirt, shiny black shoes that he hopes make him seem a little taller, and of course, his precious scarf. In the back of his mind, he knows the captain probably won’t notice any of this, so there really isn’t any need to treat it any differently to a dinner date with a close friend, yet despite that, he can’t help wanting to treat this like he’s preparing for a first meeting. 

He tucks one stray wave of hair behind his ear, having opted to wear it slightly looser than usual, and waits patiently for the ship to dock.

———

The crew is already mostly gone by the time the pirate with a scarf creeps out from his cabin. As much as he loves the lads, their curiosity could get irritating at times, and he has no desire to alert them of the fact that he’s going out. There was always a risk of being followed.

“Ah, number two!” The captain calls from slightly further up the deck. The pirate with a scarf makes his way out of the door, closing it carefully behind him and clasping his hands behind his cam as he stands at the captain’s side.

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you, sir. So do you.”

It’s true. The captain is in his usual attire, however, the pirate with a scarf does not neglect to notice the few added details like the new sash around his waist or the particular way he’s combed his hair. It’s nice, he thinks, the same yet with little changes, much like this possible new step in their relationship from friends to...whatever they might become after tonight.

“Shall we?”

He offers his hand, and the pirate with a scarf takes it with little hesitation. It’s almost exactly as he imagined it, the hold warm and secure and firm, thumb rubbing calming circles into the heel of his palm.

They walk down the gangplank and carefully across the dock. The sky is dark and starry, the perfect setting, and the pirate with a scarf hopes that it’s a sign that the rest of the night will go just as well. Another good thing, he supposes, is that the captain was willing to hold his hand at all. Given the nature of the island and the pirates on it, there was little chance of the action gaining them any ill will, and in fact, he’s pleasantly surprised to spot a few other same sex couples as they walk together. One of the many perks of piracy, if you forget about the contagious diseases and rats as large as large as tea kettles.

“Where are we going, sir?”

He asks, genuinely curious. The captain suppresses a grin, leading the first mate further up the promenade and down one of the many winding streets on the island, further into the unfamiliar. “You’ll see. Not long now.”

———

The restaurant they finally reach is a relatively fancy establishment by pirate standards. Even as they take their seats, the pirate with a scarf takes note of the little candle that burns in the centre of the table, of the tiny seashells that adorn the wall sconces, and most of all, the presence of cutlery.

Not even the flash cards of prepared conversations have to be used as the captain signals for two drinks and leans forwards, immediately starting up about shanties and Polly and the general affairs on the boat. His tone is casual and relaxed, the chat is pleasant and personal, gives the pirate with a scarf a chance to listen and contribute. The topics shift into familiar territory about the albino pirate, the orderliness of the flags and the ‘will-they-won’t-they?’ nature of some of the relationships on the boat. They order dinner without a hitch. It arrives quickly, yet doesn’t look in the slightest poisonous, rotted or explosive. Everything seems to be going perfectly. Even the grog tastes nicer here, although that might just be due to the absence of weevils in the cups.

Just as all seems to be faultless, however, there is a bang and the sound of crumbling plaster, leaving everyone turning towards the source of the noise as the grey smoke clears and the shouts die down. A silhouette makes itself clear, curvaceous and elegant, and-

“Ahoy, Cutlass! What brings you here?”

———

It’s been exactly twenty four minutes since the Captain last looked at him. He’s been counting it on his watch in between swirling his finger around the rim of his mug and trying to whistle through his teeth. The pirate captain and Liz-gorgeous, deadly, funny, pretty, smart Liz-are getting along like a house on fire, Liz leant over the table with one hand on it, acting like she’s his most trusted first mate. The bursts of exuberant laughter make the pirate with a scarf pout in his seat, and as childish as he knows it is, he can’t help but fiddle with the tassels at the end of his scarf. The practiced action does little to bring him comfort.

Liz leans back a little and stops talking. The captain remains oblivious to this and keeps up his anecdote about seals, yet Liz continues to scan the scene in front of her. She takes in the half eaten, probably cold dinners, and the flickering candle in the centre of the table, and the pouting, fidgety, upset looking man with a fair bit of alcohol drained at the opposite side of the booth to the grinning captain, and makes a very dangerous face, rolling her eyes enough to almost obscure her pupils below her eyelids.

“Look, I’ll leave you to this, huh?” She cuts him off, sloping off with a dry mutter of “Jackass...”. The captain makes a puzzled face, his gaze following after her until she disappears from his line of sight completely. Even then, he seems to linger on the spot where she was before turning back to the pirate with a scarf. “Wonder what was up with her. Bit moody, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” The pirate with a scarf replies, trying very hard not to betray how upset he is. He knows he’s being stupid, it’s not like he’s married to the captain. He clearly isn’t as interested in him as he thought he was at the beginning of the evening.

“Oh, wait a second...” The captain mutters. He winces a little as he soaks in the look on the first mate’s face. “Sorry, number two...”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, wait, hang on a second-“

“Clearly this was a very silly idea, goodnight, captain.”

And before the captain has any chance to interrupt him, the pirate with a scarf moves out of the booth and into the crowd of the restaurant.

———

The captain finds the pirate with a scarf near the water’s edge, back beside the boat. He’s dangling his legs over the pier, head ducked down as he swings his legs. The captain takes a similar position next to him, scooting in a little closer and mentally breathing a sigh of relief when he isn’t shoved away.

“I’m sorry, number two. I didn’t mean to snub you, you know.”

“I know you didn’t mean to, but you still did.”

There’s a gap of silence between them.

“Look, I know it’s silly, but I was really excited for tonight. I thought that we might...that you might...I don’t know, I thought you liked me...”

“Of course I like you!”

The pirate with a scarf turns his head to the side a little. His legs keep swinging below him, and the captain decides to join him in that.

“I was just talking to Liz. I would have done the same for anyone who walked by, I’m easily distracted, you know that. No offence, number two, but I would have left that table in a flash if I saw a mouse in a little hat.”

Despite himself, the pirate with a scarf laughs at that. The captain can see that his eyes are red rimmed and shiny despite the dim light present. “Oh, I can tell you’re a little drunk now. You get all sniffly when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t!”

“You do, you do...listen, what say you we go somewhere where I can’t be distracted by anyone or anything? It’ll just be us. Would that be a better way to cap off the night?”

“...Yes. I’d like that.”

———

The captain’s office is as warm as toast, comfortable and secure. Even as the lads pour back onto the boat, it remains fairly soundproof. There are even crackers set out from the little tin with the boat painted on it, a rare and somewhat preferable alternative to ship’s biscuits. 

“That’s where I got that beard comb made of ivory.”

“Oh, that was a good one.”

The captain and the pirate with a scarf are looking over old, dogeared maps together, warm cups of tea set on the windowsill to cool off as Polly nestles into her bed for the night. The downy feathers she sheds attached with some sticky tape to a metal tack are making for excellent markers.

“Alright, now you pick a favourite.”

The captain hands the pirate with a scarf one of the little land markers and waits patiently for him to pin it down. Cautiously, almost a little nervous, he sneaks an arm around the first mate’s waist. He can see his face turn a lovely shade of pink, but he doesn’t comment on it. Only leans further into it. “It’s tricky, but...here.”

The pirate with a scarf pushes the tack into the little spot on the map marked ‘London’.  
“When you saved me from being crushed by the teeth of a giant cog and told me that I was important to you.”

Upon receiving no response, the pirate with a scarf turns towards the captain, only to find him pressed very close against him, eyes half lidded and lips slightly parted. 

“Hmm..”

He hums, before leaning in closer. 

“I remember that.”

The pirate with a scarf leans in too, and before he has any time to think about what they’re doing, their lips meet. The contact is odd and unfamiliar, new but not at all unpleasant. The captain moves against his first mate, shifting the arm around his waist to press into the small of his back. The pirate with a scarf tilts his head to the side, little pinwheels of pleasure turning over inside him as every logical part of his brain fizzles into sparks.

Whenever they pull away, the pirate with a scarf keeps his eyes shut for a moment or two, simply savouring the tingly feeling across his nervous system. The captain grins very close to him, close enough that he can feels like he could hear him blink if he listened.

“I think it’s time we both went to bed, number two.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

The couple separate, the pirate with a scarf pushing his chair back and making his way towards the door. He’s halted by a small cough coming from behind him, the tiniest bit sheepish. “Yes, sir?”

“So, would you like to do this part again? Maybe tomorrow?”

The pirate with a scarf doesn’t turn back to face him, instead only pulls the door open, stepping out into the cool air, grin plastered across his face.

“I’d love to.”


	4. Chapter 4

The second date is spent looking at maps. Similar to the first time, the setting is warm and safe, lit by pale lanterns and shrouded in a quiet uncharacteristic of the boat. The captain manages to convince the pirate with a scarf to sit on the arm of his chair, which almost immediately leads to the first mate sprawling out on his lap like Polly in a sunny spot. The position doesn’t feel all that awkward, not even as the lanterns start to dim and the pirate with a scarf yawns like he hasn’t slept in a year. They kiss a grand total of twice, each time leaving both parties irrationally flustered and more than a little red in the face.

The third date, or at least, the most of it, is taken up by music. It’s some night at the Barnacle’s Face that the albino pirate’s desperate to go to, and no one aboard has the heart to tell him no, so they all accompany him. Neither the captain nor the pirate with a scarf pay that much attention to who exactly’s playing, it’s some attractive female pirate from what little they can gather, but the music is pleasant and quiet. Still rather reluctant to reveal the exact nature of their relationship to the rest of the crew, they attempt to keep it casual. Despite the many pirates crowding the bar, they still enjoy the time spent together, especially as the night begins to wind down and the performer plays a classic shanty everyone knows well enough to hum along to. 

The fourth date was meant to be something of a calm little affair, mostly involving books and alcohol, however, it’s interrupted almost as soon as it begins by a boat on the horizon. It’s large, intimidating, and flies the British flag. The poor, dilapidated pirate ship ends up with several canon ball holes in her side, along with some not inconsiderable damage to the sails. Thankfully, no one is killed, but they don’t escape without injury. Somewhere between the grapeshot and the roaring and the clank of blade against blade and the occasional graze to navy sailor and pirate skin alike, the surprisingly curvaceous pirate ends up with a nasty cut slashed across the flesh of ‘his’ upper arm, and the pirate with a scarf with a small yet painful stab wound in the soft part of his abdomen. 

The fifth date is spent in the pirate with a scarf’s cabin. The captain is reluctant to go anywhere whenever the first mate has most of his middle wrapped up in gauze and bandages, especially with their main gunner in a similar state of disrepair. The silence that falls over the cabin for the most of the time is not at all unpleasant, especially whenever the pirate with a scarf leans over and begins to twist strands of the captain’s hair with no real reason other than the fact that he can.

The crew begin to get suspicious around the time of the sixth date.

It’s not like their captain and their quartermaster were particularly distant with each other before, but now, their sudden closeness had led to many of the men to develop theories as to what could have led to such a change in their willingness to spend free time together. That is, all except for the albino pirate, who seemed perfectly content to listen to the rest of the crew’s theories and not say anything at all on the matter. Just as some actual coherent hypothesis begin to form up, they arrive at the destination of their next adventure, and any and all speculation is thrown out the window in favour of discovering the exact source of Spain’s sudden acid rain influx. 

The seventh date is overly comfortable. It’s something akin to a lunch date, sitting at one of the outside tables of a café near enough to the sight of their current adventure: Glasgow Cathedral.  
The romantic mood of the whole thing is only slightly spoilt by the occasional spits of rain, and one or two furious pigeons that finally end up stealing the better half of the captain’s sandwich. The pirate with a scarf can’t help laughing, much to the captain’s only partially feigned dismay.

The pirate with a scarf gets kidnapped on the eighth date, because he seems to have a knack for that now. He wakes up with his head pounding, limbs bound by tight rope to a large, cold metal slab. He can tell he’s been stripped down to his boxers and vest top from the way the cold hits his skin, harsh drills and deep laughter and hollow screams audible in the distance. For a few horrible minutes, he wonders if this is how he’ll die. That is until he hears the clashing of metal on metal echoing ever closer from down the hall, and spies the pirate captain through the open doorway. His eyes meet the pirate with a scarf’s, seeming to forget the fact he’s swinging his cutlass at the mad doctor for a moment. The pirate with a scarf beams, squirming against his bonds as the captain and the white coated figure disappear from the doorway again. There’s a horrible sound of blade piercing flesh, and then, much to the pirate with a scarf’s relief, the captain bowls in through the door again, their lips crashing together breathlessly, more grin than an actual kiss.

The ninth date, taking place almost immediately afterwards, is taken up by mostly knot tying.

It’s finally on their tenth date that the captain comes to the rather overwhelming realisation that he’s in love with the pirate with a scarf, who is currently curled up on his chest, snoring quietly. He knows that the pirate with a scarf is already in love with him, knows full well, yet the thought that he reciprocates the feelings makes him unreasonably nervous. 

The tight, growing panic in his chest melts away whenever the slumbering pirate nestles into him, smiling peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how in the books the captain is super confident and really doesn’t care what other people think of him except for scarf and scarf is so awkward and nervous except for around the captain.


	5. Chapter 5

There’s something sitting on his desk.

The pirate with a scarf is just about to walk out the door whenever he spies it. Tucked in between the pot of pens and the neatly organised row of books pressed against the cabin wall is a small stack of papers. It’s bound by scratchy pieces of string, corners slightly worried. He peers curiously at it, stepping back towards the desk to pick it up and look at the title etched into the centre of the cover page.

‘To number two.’

With his curiosity piqued, the pirate with a scarf takes the bundle, sitting as carefully as he can on his hammock and opening whatever it may be. He’s immediately met by the pirate captain’s handwriting, large and only a touch scratchy. This doesn’t seem like accounts or a stock list or anything else usual. No, it seems more like a story. A story for him?

———

The captain is anxiously chewing at the tip of his pen, not quite focused on whatever it is that’s laid out in front of him. The pirate with a scarf is late, almost by half an hour, so he has to have found the manuscript. Either that or he’s been eaten by whelks, and that seems highly unlikely.

For a moment, the captain gets the horrible mental image of his number two recoiling as he reads the text, of him doing that very distinct little thing that he does where he furrows his brow and scrunches his nose and just barely lets his tongue slip past his teeth. Then there’s the secondary mental image of him holding the manuscript to his chest, grinning that soft, easy grin, eyes lit up with excitement, and that fantasy only serves to have the captain bury his face in his arms with a groan.

This whole idea suddenly feels like a very, very bad one.

———

The more he reads, the more curious the scarf wearing pirate becomes. Every other word is something along the lines of ‘tender’, ‘dulcet’ or ‘gentle’. All positive descriptions of somebody he hasn’t quite worked out yet. He finally reaches a paragraph near the middle. It’s one about bravery, about strength in the face of fear and patience against difficulties. It begins to mention certain things. Certain very specific things.

The manuscript begins to speak of cogs and communists and three month absences. The pirate with a scarf can feel his face go red as he realises exactly who the story is about, his heart skipping over a beat in his chest below the layers of blousy shirt and blue jacket and leather belt.

———

“He’ll love it, captain.”

Polly says, or at least, the captain imagines she would say were she able to speak because she seemed very much the reasonable and comforting type of bird. In reality she’s only giving the occasional coo, but it still helps, the captain coaxing her forward with the end of a custard cream. She pecks at it, eyes very understanding for a bird who belonged to a species famed for its stupidity.  
“Do you think the name was too much?” The captain asks. It’s one of his main worries along with the countless others. Polly tilts her head into his cupped hand, rubbing her soft, round little cheek against the heel of his palm in a most comforting manner.

“No, I suppose you’re right. It’s fine. Probably.”

———

The words ‘I love you’ are the lasts ones in the manuscript. At least, they’re the last words in the proper body of the work. Below it there is a very small signature. It’s the name ‘Edward’ in the same bubble handwriting the captain does on sticky notes. 

“Oh.”

The pirate with a scarf mutters. There’s nobody around to hear him, but he still feels rather silly for saying it in such a surprised tone. On top of just finding out the captain’s real name, which is a rather massive thing in itself, the pirate with a scarf also thinks he knows what the manuscript is trying to say, if he isn’t mistaken. He would hate to be wrong, however, especially about something as important as this.

He flicks back to the beginning of the manuscript and reads it much slower than the first time around.

———

The rest of the crew are flicking frozen peas at the captain’s cabin door. He can tell by the hushed giggles coming from outside and the occasional ‘plink’ noises. He can’t be annoyed with telling them off, so long as they aren’t fighting, so he lets them be, unsupervised. 

It should not take this long to read such a small piece of text. The captain could hazard a guess that even the albino pirate could have gotten through it at least twice by now, and that’s allowing for him to sound out some of the trickier words and get distracted by a particularly shiny patch of ocean. 

The captain only realises that he’s pacing whenever he hears a distressed squawk from below him. He looks down to find the sole of his boot a few millimetres away from Polly’s tail feathers. 

“Sorry, old girl.”

He placates, picking her up and rubbing the spot under her chin with his forefinger. She gives a happy trill and nestles against the captain’s chest. Whenever the captain looks outside the window, he can see the sky turning a rather nasty shade of grey.

———

The pirate with a scarf swings the door to his cabin open and beetles up the stairs, ignoring the mix of alarmed and puzzled looks he earns from the lads as he raps on the captain’s door. To his surprise and relief, it opens in mere seconds, and he shoves himself inside, slamming the door behind him. The captain goes to say something, but is given no room to get the words out as a kiss if placed against his mouth, eager and giddy.

“Captain,” The scarf wearing pirate starts, manuscript in hand. “Did you write this for me?”

The captain removes his hands from their resting place at the first mate’s hips and instead shoves them into his pockets, eyes darting towards the floorboards. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘Yes.’.

“Did you...did you use it to tell me that you love me?”

Another mumble.

“Captain?”

“Fine, alright, yes! I love you! Gosh, you’re so nosy, number two.”

The annoyance in his voice is rather dramatically contrasted by the blush present across the taller pirate’s face. The pirate with a scarf presses a slightly more gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you, too. You didn’t have to write all this for me, Eddy. You could have just told me in the first place.”

The captain tries to ignore the little shiver of feeling the pet name sends down his spine.

“Did you like it?”

“Like it? I loved it! It even has proper sentence structure.”

They’re about to kiss again whenever another knock comes from the other side of the captain’s door. The pirate with a scarf asks who it is whilst simultaneously pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the desk. Several voices sound out.

“Can we come in, cap’n?”

“There’s a terrible storm coming out here.”

“It’s starting to rain!”

The captain lets out a small huff and opens up the door to find the entire crew standing outside, huddled together in an attempt to warm themselves up slightly.

“Please, captain, everywhere else is either too cold or full of weevils.”

The pirate captain looks back to the pirate with a scarf, who’s making a concerned face. The captain groans and steps back from the door, letting the entire crew into the small space as the moment of privacy between the couple is broken.

The albino pirate makes his way over to where the pirate with a scarf is sitting almost immediately and peeks at the stack of papers held loosely to his chest.

“What’s that?”

He asks, reaching out to touch it only to have his hands batted away. The pirate with a scarf thumbs over the corner of the pages, making very deliberate eye contact with the pirate captain.

“Oh, you know. It’s my favourite book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that one time the captain banged out an entire novel in an hour to tell Mary Shelley that he was in love with her? And that other time he wrote a whole romance novel about a princess and a pirate and read it out to the entire crew? Yeah.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy seems like he would act like an annoying little kid around any couples in the pub.

The captain is asleep, and the pirate with a scarf is restless beside him. That seems to be their routine, he knows, that one of them is peacefully slumbering whilst the other just can’t get over, be it through inability to relax enough or plain reluctance.

Something feels a little wrong, a little out of place, because everything right now is simply too good. The very nature of their crew, of their odd little family, is that nothing really stays all that stable, especially if it happens to be something good. The unsuccessful nature of their outfit generally resulted in things like that being fleeting. New boats, vast riches, pokey stone cottages with holes in the roof and too few beds. Regardless, nothing stayed constant except for the ship and the people on it.

So, what’s to stop their relationship from breaking apart? It’s all well and good that the captain is fond of kisses and waxing poetic and being incredibly affectionate, more so than anyone the pirate with a scarf has ever been in a relationship with, but that doesn’t really mean anything. The captain also has a rather nasty tendency to abandon things as soon as he grows tired of them, and the first mate is fully aware that he’s not pretty or funny or anything particularly special.

He’s plain, and that isn’t exactly something interesting. It’s something the captain will probably get bored of, any day now, and that insecurity doesn’t scare him, instead only fills him with a deep sort of upset.

All good things must come to an end.

———

They’re at the Barnacle’s Face pub, on one of the many frequent trips to blood island. It happens to be one of the rather unfortunate nights where Bellamy’s swanning about, being his usual smug self, yet for once, the captain refuses to give him the satisfaction of getting annoyed.

“Tell me what’s wrong, number two. I can tell you’re annoyed at something.”

The pirate with a scarf flattens his mouth into a thin line, trying to ignore the noise coming from the bar.

“You’ll think it’s silly.”

“Maybe. It’s important to you, though, clearly, or else you wouldn’t be so mardy. So, spill it.”

“I’m worried you’re...bored of me.”

The captain grins across the table, brushing small pieces of plaster from off his shoulders from where they’ve fallen from the newly shot holes in the ceiling.

“You’re right, that is silly. Why would I be bored of you?”

The pirate with a scarf opens his mouth to say something, but can’t find it in himself to organise his many possible reasons into something coherent enough for someone else to understand without wondering if he’s slightly mental. So he shrugs.

“If it’s about my track record, I can assure you, this is quite the different scenario.”

“Are you quite certain?”

Somewhere near them, a shot hits off a plate mounted on the wall and shatters it into about a hundred little pieces.

“I like the fact that you’re still logical and reliable, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want you to suddenly become like everyone I’ve ever liked. Did you not think that might’ve been the reason I have said track record for short relationships?”

The pirate with a scarf goes quite quiet.

“I didn’t really...no. I just thought you might be a bit fed up with me, I suppose.”

“I just wrote you a whole bloody book! You worry far too much, that’s your trouble.”

The chatter around the pub increases slightly, the captain gently kissing the first mate on the corner of the mouth. The pirate with a scarf grins against it, worry fading away into nothingness.

The familiar clink of buckles and only slightly heeled boots makes itself known near their booth. The two pirates look up to see Black Bellamy standing over them, leaning over the table and resting against it like they’re casual friends. As opposed to his usual reaction of turning bright red and sulking, the captain merely rolls his eyes, although he doesn’t neglect to nudge the pirate with a scarf’s knee below the table.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy, Bellamy?”

That stops Bellamy dead in his tracks, whatever he was about to say lost to the frankness of it. The captain doesn’t look at him as he scoots in closer to the pirate with a scarf, who obligingly tucks his head onto his shoulder, a little more bold than they’d usually be in public, but more than worth it to see the way Bellamy flounders for something to pick on.

“I just came to congratulate you two. I hear that you finally got together.” 

It’s very apparent that it’s not the line he originally planned on. The pirate with a scarf takes a drink from his mug, snuggling in closer to the captain. 

“I think it’s nice, y’know, two saddos together.”

“Oh, don’t be such a twat, Bellamy.”

The pirate with a scarf snorts, unexpected and branching off into a round of giggles. The captain seems to actually have the upper hand with Bellamy for once, and he can’t quite believe that all it took was simply ignoring the villain. 

“It’s very nice that you sailed all the way over here to showboat and take the mick out of my coat, or whatever it is that I’ve done wrong now, but at least I’m not afraid of committing to someone.”

Bellamy furrows his brows, expression changing ever few seconds as he attempts to find a comeback. All that comes out are sputters. The captain is revelling in this, a fact that’s more than apparent.

“What about that nice brunette I saw you with last time? Did you get frightened and turn tail again? Did you get fed up with her?”

Privately, the pirate with a scarf grins into his mug. 

“I’d be happy to help you find someone to settle down with, if you’d like.”

Without saying another word, Bellamy flares his nostrils and turns on his heel. While most of the pub seems to be oblivious to what just transpired, there are a few lone pirates who make attempts to hide their laughter as the infamous Black Bellamy, terror of the high seas with eyes as black as pitch and a blacker heart to match, is shamed back to the bar by simple playground taunts.

The captain finally lets his calm facade drop, grinning madly as he thumps the table. 

“Bested at last!”

The pirate with a scarf mirrors his expression, bright and excited and only a tiny bit dark. The crew can be heard scrabbling at the tables around the pub as they work out what exactly just happened.

“See, sir? You didn’t rise to him.”

“Well, I did. A little bit.”

“I think he deserved a good taste of his own medicine.”

There’s a small span of silence, pleasant and comfortable, until the pirate with a scarf gets an idea. A little shiver runs through him at the thought. Slowly, he leans across the table and whispers conspiratorially, lips incredibly close to the shell of the captain’s ear. He turns a deep shade of red in response, pushing the other pirate away with a jumpy little shove.

“Steady on!”

The quartermaster nuzzles back against his chest, trying and failing to conceal the way he bites his bottom lip.

“True, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of wanted to experiment with the captain being a little bit more patient, and Scarf equally being a little more adventurous. Plus, Bellamy’s a dick and he deserves to get a tonguing.  
> (Any suggestions for what Scarf whispers to the captain?)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off an old BBC comedy (like everything my dumb ass writes) and I refuse to apologise

There is music thumping louder than should be allowed from just across the water. It’s a tiny island the ship’s parked up next to, seemingly on the exact date of a local festival. Drums are the most audible part of the whole noisy symphony, accompanied by other loud yelps of sound and clattery shells on strings. The pirate with a scarf is just sitting across from the captain, watching the shadows of the crew on the blank sand in just the same enraptured manner, eventually sinking back down to lie on the deck, gazing at the stars.

The captain follows easily. He isn’t too worried about the lads getting themselves into that much trouble. Even if they do manage, somehow, they’ll be well within earshot. Maybe it would be better if they did, he thinks, recalling the distinct lack of any particularly gory adventures for the past month or two. He can’t have them getting restless.

“Do you think we should have let the albino one go? He might not be old enough.”

“What, he’s old enough to see a man be run through and do it himself, but a bit of a blue light and he’ll be thrown over in shock?”

There can’t be anyone left onboard, not for it to be this quiet. Even the rats below deck seem to have gone silent, when they’d usually be scampering up a storm and prompting someone to bang a bullet into the floorboards.

“I would’ve been scared at his age.”

“What do you mean? Pirates don’t get frightened. Not even the little ones.”

“Of course they do! Everyone does.”

The captain sits up then, pulling the pirate with a scarf with him by the scruff of his neck, eliciting a shout that’s almost annoyed and a bat to the chest.

“What are you frightened of, then?”

There’s a moment where the captain wonders if he’s touched a nerve, for the pirate with a scarf’s smile turns a little emptier, a little bit colder.

“You’ll think it’s quite childish. You mustn’t laugh at it.”

“You seem to think I find everything you say childish. No, right, I promise. No laughing.”

“I’m...afraid of the dark.”

And the thing is, the captain can’t help laughing, if only out of sheer surprise that a fully grown man would ever confess to such a thing. He peters off with a cough. It’s obvious he hasn’t agitated the situation any further, but he equally hasn’t assuaged his fears a great deal. 

“What, still? Even now? Big lad like you?”

“Its not things hiding in the dark or anything. It’s just...sometimes, when I’m lying there at night, the dark seems to be...touching me. Isn’t that silly?”

“Yeah, it is.”

But the captain’s own voice has gone soft, simply looking at the man in front of him in the same way he was gazing out to the water only mere minutes ago, and he feels something rising in his chest, something that makes his pulse beat in rhythm with the drums coming from the island behind them. He swallows thickly, joining his hand together with the other pirate’s, who doesn’t do anything beyond tense up, as if this is the first time they’ve done this and not about the hundredth. 

A fear of the dark perhaps doesn’t seem so silly. Not whenever the captain thinks about it. About the feel of it, when you let your mind run quiet.

“Maybe tonight, whenever you’re lying there...in the dark...I could hold your hand.”

It doesn’t sound quite as grand or romantic as he’d like it to. Instead, to him, it’s like the weight of a cannonball pressing down in the very air, the whole atmosphere suddenly as stiff as an iron plank. He’s privately thankful for the deafening music thumping in the background masking the leap of his heart.

“Ok.”

Comes the soft response. 

The kiss feels right. Natural. Like the fitting piece in an extremely exciting but overwhelmingly complex jigsaw puzzle. Like the one they have that’s just smarties, the captain thinks, before he’s pulled down further, deeper, lovingly, and any and all thoughts about puzzles and sweets are snuffed out like a candle.


End file.
